


giving it all to you

by heroisms (tiny_white_hats)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Christmas, F/M, about as close to fluff as I think Bruce and Natasha are capable of getting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_white_hats/pseuds/heroisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Christmas gifts Bruce and Natasha gave one another, and one that was given to them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	giving it all to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meowtwist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowtwist/gifts).



> This was written for the Hulkwidownet Secret Santa exchange, for meowtwist on tumblr.
> 
> The prompt was "fluff, no smut," so I decided to try my hand at holiday fluff. This was about as fluffy as I could go, while still finding the characters believable, so I hope it's what you were hoping for, meowtwist! Happy holidays!
> 
> Rated for some profanity.
> 
> Title from "Prosthetic Love" by Typhoon.

1\. Christmas Eve, 2012

Even in the crowd they’d managed to throw together for the Christmas party downstairs, Natasha’s absence had been conspicuous. As far as holiday parties went, this one had a worryingly high ratio of chaos to people present, so he thought maybe he was the only one who’d noticed.

He’d passed out all his other presents at the party, the novelty of having people to give gifts to still fresh and warm, but with Natasha gone, he still had hers. There was a chance she wasn’t even in the tower, but he still didn’t know her well enough to guess her habits, either way, so he knocked on her door just in case.

She was in, after all, wearing SHIELD issue sweats and looking decidedly unfestive. “Nice antlers,” she smirked. Bruce just straightened them and grinned. They were a gift from Steve, who was embracing Christmas in 2012 in every way he knew how.

“Merry Christmas, Natasha. Not joining the party downstairs?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, no.”

“Well, I think I saw Tony and Rhodey accidentally set the Christmas tree on fire on my way out, so it’s either winding down or barely getting started.”

Natasha laughed at that, which was good, because Bruce always felt a little more comfortable around her when she laughed. It was a nice reminder that she’d met the man and the monster, and found neither lacking. That, in fact, she somehow decided that she kind of liked him.

“That does sound tempting.”

“Hey, listen,” Bruce rummaged in the pockets of his jacket until he could find the small, neatly wrapped box he’d carried up with him. “This is for you.”

“I’m Russian.” Natasha blinked at him like she didn’t understand, which was so clearly not the case, because Natasha was never confused by human behavior. And as far as gestures went, Bruce thought that trying to hand somebody a present on Christmas Eve was about as self-explanatory as was really possible. “A godless Communist. I don’t tend to celebrate Christmas, for obvious reasons.”

“Obviously,” Bruce nodded.

“And I didn’t get you anything,” she added.

“That’s okay.”

She frowned, her nose wrinkling just slightly. “So, I’m not sure…”

“Natasha,” Bruce finally cut her off. “Just open the present.”

“Okay,” Natasha said finally, and took the box out of his hands. “You can come in,” she told him, then walked back into her apartment with the present in her hands, Bruce following behind.

Inside, her apartment looked a lot like his, somehow sparser. Considering that Bruce still kept his things in a go-bag on the floor of his closet, that was something of an accomplishment. Natasha had taken the present to the kitchen island, where she was unwrapping it slowly. She slid a finger under each fold of the paper, careful to unfold, rather than tear, the paper. She was oddly gentle in her precision, something halfway between reverent and cautious.

“I took Thor antiquing a while ago,” Bruce explained as Natasha opened the box secreted away beneath the giftwrap to pull out an antique decorative dagger. “And, well, I saw that and thought you might like it.”

“You took Thor antiquing?” Natasha asked with a delighted smile, instead of a hundred more relevant questions.

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “Clint showed him _Antiques Roadshow_ and he was curious. You know how he is about really making sure he understands Midgardian traditions.”

“How’d it go?”

Bruce laughs. Thor had been a hit with the antiquing crowd, a dozen old ladies immediately charmed by his manners and frankly impressive arms. He, of course, had been thrilled to find friends in an unlikely place, happy to be among people who saw him as just another enthusiast, not a prince or a god or someone to revere. Bruce knew the feeling, knew how much it mattered, so he’d spent the day letting Thor drag him from shop to shop, buying nothing but Natasha’s dagger. “It was an experience,” he said.

“I’ll bet.”

Natasha examined the dagger in silence for a moment, turning it over in her hands. It was decorative, hardly intended for practical use, but Bruce had no doubt that she could make it lethal. Finally, without another word to him, she crossed the room, and propped the dagger at the center of her small coffee table. As far as Bruce could see, it was the only decoration she had.

With her back still turned to him, Natasha stood for a moment, looking at the dagger. “Thank you, Bruce.”

“Of course. Merry Christmas, Natasha.”

“Hey,” Natasha said, finally turning to look at him from across the room. “If you’re not going back to the party, you’re welcome to watch a Christmas movie with me.”

He wasn’t not sure why, but he took her up on the offer. It was Christmas Eve, and there were too many people downstairs and nobody in his apartment, and he’d just end up lonely, either way. He’d spent enough holidays alone in the past few years to want desperately to spend this one with someone else. The end up watching _Fargo_ —Natasha couldn’t find a single holiday movie that didn’t make her wrinkle her nose in distaste—and they’re both quiet on their opposite sides of the couch, but it’s good. Natasha didn’t say anything else about the dagger, but the next time Bruce was in her apartment, a month later, the dagger still decorated the coffee table.

 

2\. Christmas Day, 2014

Natasha didn’t celebrate Christmas, but even she thought there was something inherently wrong with setting a murderous automaton Nativity scene loose in Brooklyn on Christmas Day.

Robots on a holiday was bad enough, but the real kicker had been the baby Jesus automaton, a tiny dirty bomb, wrapped in swaddling cloth. Steve had been horrified at the blasphemy, and at their lack of a plan; in all the protocols they’d made, somehow they’d missed prepping for a dirty bomb in a metropolitan area. Eventually, Bruce had sighed, stripped off his shirt, and said, “somebody better get me a goddam burger after this,” before turning green and bounding towards the bomb. Hulk had smashed robot Mary and Joseph before laying down on the bomb, and letting it blow.

Turns out the Hulk absorbed radiation, and Bruce had been sitting on the intel. Steve was furious and Tony was giddy and Thor was handling the new crew like a champ, and in all the mess, nobody remembered Bruce’s goddam hamburger. Collectively, they had enough presence of mind to get Bruce his shirt and to get him off the scene before everybody matched his face to the Hulk, but it was a near thing.

After half an hour of trying to shower the smell of singed robot sheep off, Natasha remembered. Finding a place that would make a burger and deliver on Christmas day, even to Avengers tower, was a chore and a half, but eventually she got it sorted. Getting Bruce his comfort food was the least she could do, after Hulk smashed a dirty bomb for them.

She waited until the burger was delivered before pounding on Bruce’s door, takeout bag in one hand and a neatly wrapped box in the other. When he came to the door, Bruce looked wan and waxy, as if a breath of air would knock him down, as if, were she to pull his shirt over his head, she’d be able to count his ribs pushed close against his skin.

“How do you feel?”

Bruce’s smile was a weary as he looked. “You know what they say, it hurts to become. Changing always feels like getting hit by a train.”

Natasha knew. She had her own becoming carved out along her body, all the scars that said she was real, she was her own.

“Sitting on a bomb probably didn’t feel much better,” Natasha said. “Can I come in?”

“Door’s always open for you,” Bruce smiled weakly at her. “You know that.”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s nice to ask.”

Bruce had stripped down to pajamas, and seemed to be settled into a pile of blankets on his couch. He had a bowl of chili settled on the table beside the couch, and some Christmas carol she didn’t recognize echoing through the apartment’s speakers.

“I believe you were promised a burger,” Natasha said, forcing the take out bag into Bruce’s hands. His face lit up in a genuine grin, and he took only enough time to grab and unwrap the burger before he tore into it. Nothing like exponential increases in mass to whet your appetite.

“And when you’re done with that,” she said, “Let me give you your Christmas present before you go back into your coma.”

“I thought Christmas wasn’t your thing?” Bruce looked almost amused, almost fond, as he set down his burger to peer at her.

Natasha shrugged, “Yeah, but it is yours.”

 

 

3\. Christmas Day, 2015

Natasha had always refused to spend Christmas with the Bartons. Regardless of what Clint and Laura kept insisting, she couldn’t help but feel like she had no place there, like she would be intruding on something she couldn’t even understand. So while Thanksgiving had been spent at their farm, her Christmases had been alone, and then, for the last few years, in Bruce’s company. Without him here, Natasha didn’t feel like she had all that much to celebrate. Christmas was more Bruce’s holiday than hers, anyways.

All the same, she pulled on sweatpants and a Culver University shirt she’d stolen from him years ago, long before the gesture would have meant anything. Now, wearing Bruce’s shirt, missing him on a holiday he’d loved more than she ever could have, it felt weighty with meaning, even if there was no one to see it. It had been just past six months since Bruce vanished on her, and while she refused to admit that she still missed him, his absence hurt in a new way today. She hated that she’d let herself come to expect his presence; she hated that he’d grown so close to her just to walk away. She hated that she’d bought Bruce a Christmas present, just in case he came back home.

It sat on her kitchen counter, nowhere better to put it in the absence of a tree, glaring and awful in cheery green paper with a bow. Bruce wasn’t coming back for it, or for her, but when he did find his way back, Natasha decided she’d have this waiting for him.

 

 

4\. Christmas Day, 2016

Bruce wandered into his kitchen in just his boxers, and dropped something on the table before Natasha, with a quick kiss and a “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” They were both early risers, but he’d been the first one out of bed, going to fetch the ‘holiday surprise’ Tony had taped to his door and texted him about.

Natasha picked up the tabloid he’d found at the door, and snorted. Across the front was a picture of the two of them from the afternoon before, as they stood hand and hand by the tree at Rockefeller Place. In garish red, the headline “Caught in Her Web? Black Widow Snares Mystery Man!” stretched across the cover.

“You’re kidding, right?” she laughed, but her smile looked tinny, almost false.

Bruce took the coffee she’d poured for him and collapsed into the chair across from her. He probably looked overjoyed, but he couldn’t dampen the dumb smile he felt creeping across his face. “Not even a little bit.”

“This is what you got me for Christmas?”

“No,” Bruce smiled, “this is just a bonus.”

Natasha flipped through the magazine, giving a short cough of laughter when she found the cover story. She didn’t read it aloud, but Bruce could guess at its contents. No doubt he was just another sorry, rich, older man, the latest in a long line of her exploits. No doubt he was just her newest prey.

She closed the magazine with a huff, pushing it out of the way to pull her coffee to her. Head tilted, she watched Bruce drink his own. “You’re awfully cheery for America’s newest tabloid star.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “I’m actually thrilled.”

“I’m sure.”

Bruce shrugged. If nobody recognized him, even standing side by side with another Avengers, it was nothing if not good news. After the SHIELD leak and the legal mess that had followed him out of Wakanda for months, his anonymity felt like freedom in a way he hadn’t known in years. Maybe Hulk was still making headlines, but apparently nobody could pick boring old Bruce Banner out of a lineup. It was exhilarating. Natasha had to understand that; it was a new freedom for him, but he knew the loss of her own anonymity still smarted.

“What can I say?” Bruce said. “I’ve always wanted to be a mysterious celebrity boyfriend.”

“It’s fun,” Natasha agreed, “well, until you have to kill the celebrity.”

Even now, after the years they had known each other, the only way to unravel all the stories Natasha still held to the chest was to wait for moments like this, when she deigned to let the merest detail slip. Bruce raised his eyebrow and waited, and sure enough, Natasha spelled out the whole story, her and a Eurovision starlet and a smoking gun, back in the summer of ’91. “Of course,” she finished, “I looked nothing like myself. That’s when my identity was still currency.”

“For what it’s worth,” Bruce said, “I wasn’t planning on trying to kill you.”

“I know,” Natasha answered, and this time her smile was real.

 

 

5\. Christmas Eve, 2017

Natasha wasn’t in the apartment when Bruce got back from the R&D meeting from hell, but there was a tiny grey kitten walking along the length of the couch.

“Friday, any idea how a cat found its way in here?” Bruce asked. He had been under the impression that tower security was good enough to keep out stray cats, but watching the face Tony made when he found out a cat beat out his security system would be more than worth the price of admission.

“I have a few,” Friday answered. It sounded an awful lot like she was trying not to laugh.

“Planning on sharing that information?”

“‘Fraid not, Doctor Banner,” Friday chimed back at him.

On the couch, the cat had jumped down to perch on a cushion, peering suspiciously at Bruce. Bruce peered back. Behind him, the door clicked shut and a set of footsteps wound their way through the room, but by now, Bruce recognized Natasha’s gait well enough that he didn’t even startle.

“Thanks, Friday.” Natasha walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his middle. “Hey.”

“Natasha,” Bruce said, “there’s a cat in my apartment.”

He could feel her smile against his skin, where she’d tucked her face against his neck. “I know,” she said. “I put it there. Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

“You got me a cat for Christmas? What if I was allergic?”

Natasha poked him in the side. “You’re not.”

“Okay,” Bruce nodded, “That’s fair. Of course you’d know.”

“Of course.”

He tugged at her arm until she slipped around to his side, standing hip to hip and watching the cat watch them. “Does it have a name?” Bruce asked.

Natasha turned her head to look at him curiously, wearing the fondly bewildered look she sometimes had about her whenever he did something that seemed particularly counterintuitive to her. It was the closest Bruce had ever seen her to looking confused. “Of course not,” she said. “We’re going to name her together.”

“Yeah? You and me?” Bruce asked. He didn’t know how he felt about any of this, about the kitten clawing its way back up to the top of the couch, about the implicit permanence of sharing this responsibility, about this being the only kind of gesture Natasha knew how to make. Or, if he was being honest with himself, he was just as terrified as he was elated; scared of scaring her off, and still unsure if he deserved any of this, and so fucking in love that nothing else seemed to matter.

“Here’s the thing,” Natasha said. “I’m not going anywhere. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Bruce kissed her, and when he finally pulled back, the grin on Natasha’s face matched the one he could feel stretching across his, wide and warm and crinkled. “Neither am I,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anywhere else for me to go.”

He stepped away from Natasha to approach the couch, holding out a slow hand for the cat to sniff. The cat was braver than he was, bounding towards his palm and nosing at his thumb insistently. “Merry Christmas, Natasha,” Bruce said, glancing his thumb along the kitten’s back. “Let’s name our cat.”

 

 

+1. Christmas Day, 2019

Tony Stark was a goddam miracle worker, and a gift to his friends. More importantly, he gave great gifts to his friends. With Pepper’s help, in this case.

“Tony, no,” Bruce sighed. Even now, five years later, it felt like he never stopped saying that. Which, yeah, okay, sometimes Tony’s ideas were bad ideas. But this one definitely wasn’t. This one was awesome.

“Actually,” he said, as Natasha tugged the envelope away from Bruce. “I think what you mean to say is ‘thank you Pepper and Tony for this thoughtful and generous gift,’ but I think I know you well enough by now to know that it’s what you mean.”

Natasha finally got a good look at the deed to the house he’d bought for them and the tasteful real estate photos he’d tucked in the envelope, but she kept her face curiously blank. “Walk away, Stark.”

“Yeah, merry fucking Christmas to you too, Maneater,” Tony scowled, but backed off. He figured that giving them space to talk about their feelings and brand new house could be half of the present. Besides, they were in the communal lounge; wasn’t like Friday didn’t have eyes and ears on them anyways.

He gave it a week, tops, before they moved in. He was officially the best secret Santa ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> Happy holidays to any who celebrate any holidays this time of year!


End file.
